Louder than Words
by shywr1ter
Summary: ML, with Bling's help. Very early S1. One of the possible moments in the shift from the old Logan to the new.


_DISCLAIMER: Oh, can't I at least have Logan? Half of the gang here seems to want to give him the boot , anyway... Okay, okay, they're not mine and I bow to their creators as geniuses..._

_MY THANKS and appreciation to all of you for reading, and extra to those who've taken the time to write. For all of you who have asked for longer stories I am pleased that you ask and am eager to try something substantial, so this will seem strange that my entries are getting progressively shorter. But I am doing some warm-up stretches before starting to run. Any and all comments are sought and appreciated._

_WHAT FOLLOWS is a two part exercise: I wanted to give another side of the characters a try, after two attempts at the mooshy-sweet- angsty parts of Max & Logan that I love. Also, I wanted to "comment" on a bit of business I saw in the Logan character–I've wondered if it was actor, writer or director driven–maybe one of you will know. I do realize that Bling's interpretation of the meaning may be as optimistic as his insistence that Logan will walk. Whoever developed it–and whatever it means--I've found it amusing that Logan uses his brakes like a cat uses her tail..._

**LOUDER THAN WORDS**

Bling chuckled as he heard the sound: not only was this a more hopeful sign than any he'd heard from his client yet--it was funny.

It was part of a developing vocabulary the man was creating, and whether or not he would ever know or admit it, these "words" told his therapist louder than any rants or gripes that he was coming to terms with his new life:

He was talking with the chair.

Loudly. With finesse. He was developing a regular language of it: "pissy" was a simultaneous, precise crack of both wheelchair brakes, clipped and holier-than-thou, with or with an accompanying about-face; "long suffering" was a vocal sigh with a drawn out release of the brakes and a final little flourish of a snappy pop at the end; "cranky" was an annoying rattling of the brake handles just before taking off (usually combined with a choice brake release fitting the mood); "irritation" –no, irritation with _Max_-- was a loud, crisp snap first of one brake, then the other, with the little grunt of breath as he pushed off, hard.

During last week's practice he'd developed versatility: he could do each one coming _or_ going (as in, parking or taking off) virtually doubling their usefulness. This week he'd begun using this "language" without words to mute the effect. And irritation was what Bling heard, from the other room, at that moment. He chuckled again.

"_What now??_" Exasperation colored the feminine voice on the receiving end, Max clearly prodding for a response Logan didn't feel like giving. "Logan??" she demanded, and after another silence came her final, "whatever!"

That, too, drew another chuckle from Bling, unfortunately. It escaped from him just as the diminutive form stomped down the hall to pass him, making far more noise than seemed possible for a woman that size, to then stomp back to glare from the doorway. "And what's up with _you_?" No one was safe for a while, it would seem. "What's the joke?"

Bling looked up serenely from the work out table where he restocked the items he needed for Logan's therapy, eyes sparkling sagely. "No joke. Completely serious–and important–and the best news I've heard since I've been here."

It was enough to pull her up short, curiosity allowing a shift in her ire. "What are you talking about?" her irritation crackled.

His smile was knowing, but his voice was quiet, and direct. "Listen the next time, Max. A few months ago it was a struggle to get Logan to face anyone, in the chair, then just as hard to get him to go out in public. Even then, in public, he wanted to stay in the car so no one would realize... He knows the chair is obvious --and necessary-- but he wanted it to disappear. It was a mark of shame for him.

"But then, about two weeks ago, I started hearing it. He's discovered how satisfying a sound it can be to punctuate his point with those damn brakes..." Bling's smile was wide. "It's perfect for him when he's in one of his pissy moods–and he knows it. And uses it. But most important--" Bling looked deeply into Max's eyes, to make his point. "It's a sound that is unique to the chair–and makes the chair obvious. It's his admission that it's part of him and it's not a surrender, it's almost a celebration–or at least, he's flipping off the rest of us–not only at the conversation of the moment, but at the world, if it dares to try and hold him back."

Bling watched the thoughtful expression on Max's face as she considered his words–and nodded. "You're right" she agreed softly. "It is..." The large brown eyes continued to stare toward the floor as she mulled over the revelation. And after a few moments, they raised to meet Bling's, dancing with a twinkle above a wicked grin. "Yeah," she agreed. "Thanks." She turned on her heel and stormed back into the fray.

"_Logan!!"_ She demanded...


End file.
